Chinese names are unpronounceable for Westerners, and the same happens to Chinese people regarding our names. To ease socializing, the same that all Chinese choose a pseudonym when studying a foreign language, a Chinese name is imposed on to foreigners coming to China.
Chinese names are unpronounceable for Westerners, and the same happens to Chinese people regarding our names. To ease socializing, the same that all Chinese choose a pseudonym when studying a foreign language, a Chinese name is imposed on to foreigners coming to China. This is not a casual task, since there are many factors to take into consideration: phonetics, characters and meaning.
My Chinese name is Yifeng, slightly imitating the phonetics of Ivo, the name that I, to my parents’ chagrin, chose twenty years ago. “Yi” for art (艺), and “Feng” for Wind (风), because it reminded me to the sea breeze of my land, full of strength and salt, the wind that travels and makes people crazy.
From the beginning my Chinese teacher found grating the election of “wind”, in fact the word for “crazy” is the character of wind to which the radical of disease is added (疯), but to me the authorities’ opinion has never been relevant, moreover, opposing it always reinforced my position, so I stayed with “Wind with Art”.
Years passed, I left Beijing to move to the opposite end of the country, to Yunnan. One of the many things this intense province offers is a Taoist monastery where I go whenever I need to slow down. The monks of the place are the best company. They can give you conversation for a full afternoon where time is measured with teacups, teach you Taichi, or leave you alone. I suspect that they can read the mind. One of them, who likes to drink more than tea and whose company is a little dangerous, made a gesture of disgust when I told him my name. “Wind is unstable, it makes you unstable, you have to find another name.” I thought that a little stability would not hurt, rejecting my typical opposition, so I asked him “How about you choose a name for me, having the same phonetics?” “Done.”
Days and weeks passed, and one day, when the infamous Dali wind roared down the slopes of the mountain, I got tired of waiting for the monk to call and took the dictionary. I soon found the character I wanted: “丰: Abundant”. I closed the dictionary with satisfaction, and the phone rang. I was not surprised to see it was the monk. We both could hear the smile in the other’s voice. “I know what name suits you: 丰.”
Chinese is a fascinating language and learning to know it helps us to see a part of human thinking totally different to what we are used to, opening us to new horizons.